


Some Frogs for your Hog

by Mx_Maneater



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Ron Weasley, Closeted Character, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Horny Teenagers, M/M, POV Ron Weasley, Secret Crush, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Slytherins selling nudes, Snarky Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23192383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mx_Maneater/pseuds/Mx_Maneater
Summary: For 200 Chocolate Frogs, the Slytherins can arrange for magical nudes that move to be smuggled into the castle.Ron Weasley wanted some.  By Godric, he wantedone in particular.  And he was going to get it, Slytherins be damned.
Comments: 27
Kudos: 64
Collections: Cards Against Muggles Crack Fest





	Some Frogs for your Hog

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all - this is my first crackfic (or at least, an attempt at one)! We were given a prompt from a random Cards Against Muggles draw, which was basically the greatest source of inspiration ever. 10/10 will do again. 
> 
> t/w: teens looking at porn; closeted bisexual feels

Ron Weasley would not be deterred from his goal. Not by the sweet temptation of chocolate frogs rattling around in his trunk, nor the look of carefully subdued horror on the cashier’s face at Honeyduke’s when he had requested 200 of them this morning.  
  
She knew him, of course – after the war, who didn’t? – but more than that, she knew his type. He was the kind of guy to spend an hour walking around the store in mouth-watering wonder, only to buy a licorice wand for 5 knuts. Or, on really special occasions, a micepop for 1 sickle.  
  
Regardless, it had come as quite a shock to her when she rang up the 200 frogs for a total of 20 galleons 13 sickles and 13 knuts, and he had handed over the money with only the faint grimace of resigned determination.  
  
Ron Weasley did not consider himself a foolish person. Sure, he had never been as practical or clever as Hermione, but that was to be expected. He still had the wherewithal to solve a semi-complex issue, and that’s exactly what this was.  
  
The Slytherins were selling nudes. Not their own, of course – they were far too wary of blackmail for that – but they had a little deal that was never advertised (yet everyone knew about) claiming that they could procure magical moving nudes of any celebrity or high-profile person for the all-encompassing price of 200 chocolate frogs.  
  
Sure, it was a little steep. They were Slytherins and greedy – that was to be expected. But he knew they would come through with what he needed; he’d asked around and made sure of that. Lavender had admitted to him once that she’d bought some of Gilderoy Lockhart from them back in sixth year, and was overwhelmingly satisfied. And while it stung a bit to place that story as during her time dating _him_ , the vote of confidence was clearly what mattered here.  
  
And she wasn’t the only satisfied customer he’d talked to. Seamus had famously hidden a stash of magical moving porn in his pillowcase that he’d acquired somewhere around fourth year. Dean had been known to use his as a bookmark in a novel on his nightstand – one that he had suspiciously been halfway through for close to three years now.  
  
The guys had been gruff and reticent to share details of where they got theirs, but when Ron had gotten up the nerve to ask Lavender about the racy Lockhart pictures charmed to her mirror, she had sighed all exasperated-like and explained the Slytherins’ standing deal to him.  
  
And he’d been sitting with the knowledge ever since. Sitting and saving. And, for once in his life, he actually had the money. Some had come from awards following the war, some from bets of chess games. It didn’t matter. He had made his decision, and this would be worth it. It definitely would.

  


At midnight, Ron slipped out of bed and shoved the chocolate frogs from his trunk and into his bag. They rustled around, and Ron had to dive for a few that clacked out of his grip and onto the floor. He grabbed them as quickly as he could and crammed them, partially-flattened, into the bag; he held his breath to see if anyone had woken up.  
  
Merciful nothing.  
  
Ron crept out of the room, closed the door, and let out a sigh of relief. Then, with the help of Harry’s map (that he’d swiped on his way out), he managed to get down to the dungeons without running into any of the teacher’s patrols. Not that he’d get into _trouble_ per se, as an eighth-year student and legal adult now. But McGonagall did like to maintain some basic guidelines for them, and regardless, he didn’t want to explain to _anyone_ what he was doing tonight – let alone a headmistress with decades of experience seeing through teenagers’ shitty excuses.  
  
When he had descended to the bottom level, he sidled up to the stone wall which he knew was their common room entrance and knocked. They had to be up – the Slytherins were always up, partying or plotting. After a few moments, the rocks began to shift into a passageway emitting an eerie green glow, and a backlit figure stepped in from the other side.  
  
_Please don’t be Malfoy. Please don’t be Malfoy_ , he thought to himself as soon as the thought occurred.  
  
To his relief, the lithe figure of Blaise Zabini stepped into the hall.  
  
“I’ll be damned – there’s a Weasley at our door,” he announced. His eyes raked over Ron’s pajamaed form, lingering for a few moments on the overstuffed bag he carried with him. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”  
  
“A _Weasley?_ ” came a familiar, snotty voice from the common room. “Surely, you’re joking.” Then, _bloody hell_ , none other than Draco fucking Malfoy stepped through the passageway to join them.  
  
Ron was doomed.  
  
If _Malfoy_ got ahold of this, he’d never hear the end of it. Hell.  
  
The pointy git proceeded to give him a once-over like Zabini had, then crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. His smile had all the friendliness of a shark.  
  
“Okay,” he said at length, “you’re not joking then.” He studied Ron from a distance, making his hackles raise. “What’s in the bag, Weasley?”  
  
Ron felt himself flushing with embarrassment, but was saved answering by Zabini’s subsequent snort.  
  
“Come, Draco, don’t be impolite. It’s fairly obvious that Weasley here came to make a deal.”  
  
Malfoy’s eyes snapped to him with interest. “Merlin, did you _really?_ ” He glanced at the bag again. “ _You?_ ”  
  
Ron fought the urge to spontaneously crumple in on himself and disappear from existence altogether. He kind of wished he’d let Harry do him in when he was stalking him sixth year.  
  
With a grimace, Ron thrust the bag out in front of him. “I brought the 200 frogs, alright?”  
  
Zabini took a step forward and began to reach for it, when Ron yanked it away again.  
  
“But I’m not handing them over until I have _my_ part of the bargain.”  
  
Zabini began to laugh and crossed his arms as well. “Alright, alright – calm down. You’re twitchier than a boxed crup.” When Ron made no move to say more, he sighed, lip twitching with barely-contained amusement. “But you know, you’ve got to _tell_ us what it is you want first.”  
  
Malfoy raised a pointed brow. “Or rather, _who_.” His eyes clouded like he was considering something, and then he glanced up to meet Ron’s eyes with poorly-hidden disdain. “You do realize though, that as Granger is a student here, we won’t be able to get any… _pictures_ of her, right?”  
  
Ron’s cheeks were radiating heat as he bit out a reply. “That’s not-…Why would I-…This has _nothing_ to do with Hermione!”  
  
That clearly caught the two Slytherins off guard. They eyed him with newfound interest.  
  
_Great_. He was so screwed.  
  
“Oh? Then who?” Malfoy pushed off the wall and took a few steps towards him.  
  
Ron took a step back. “I’m-…I’m not telling _you!_ I’ll tell Zabini, but _you_ have to leave!”  
  
Malfoy’s face twisted into a smug grin, and Zabini was already shaking his head. He pulled a crudely-drawn business card out of his pocket and handed it to Ron. “Sorry Weasley, but Draco helps with the _procurement_ , so it’s either you tell us both, or no deal.”  
  
_Bloody hell_. The card read: “Tell the dudes, or you get no nudes!” Beside the motto was a scratchy doodle of them that Ron immediately recognized as Malfoy’s work, based on the notes he threw at Harry.  
  
  
  
_What had he gotten himself into?_  
  
Zabini plucked at some invisible dust on his shirt, schooling his usual smirk. “So Weasley, what’s it going to be?”  
  
“Fine!” Ron managed. “Fine. I’ll tell you. But I swear, if either of you tell anyone-”  
  
“Relax,” Zabini interrupted. “It’s not like this is the first time we’ve done this. We’ve got a business going here. Professional guarantee and all that.” He raised a brow and spoke deliberately. “So who is it?”  
  
This was the moment Ron had been dreading. He had focused on all the other details of setting this up in order to ignore the part of actually confessing whose nudes he desired enough to come to _Slytherins_.  
  
“….tor….um..” he mumbled.  
  
“What was that?” Zabini asked, stepping closer, a hand to his ear.  
  
Ron cleared his throat, refusing to look at them. Merlin, this was never going to be anything other than horrible. “…Victor Krum.”  
  
There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Malfoy began to cackle with glee. “Oh, _Salazar!_ You’re telling me, you-… Holy _hell_ , Weasel. _Merlin_. This is just too rich.”  
  
Zabini was clearly biting back laughter himself, though had the good courtesy to hold it in as best he could. “Krum, as in international Quidditch star, Krum?” His lips were twitching again. “Forgive me, I didn’t know he was your…preference.”  
  
Ron wanted the ground to swallow him whole.  
  
“So like…” Malfoy continued, “when you were cursing his name and glaring at him all through fourth year – that tension was actually _sexual_ in nature?” He stopped to laugh some more. “I thought you were just jealous, because he stole Granger away.”  
  
“What’s it matter to you?” Ron screeched. “It can be _both!_ ”  
  
“Yes, well - clearly.”  
  
“ _Why_ were you even looking?” Ron hissed.  
  
Draco’s lips curled into a gloating smirk. “Trust me, I wasn’t. But, as Viktor and I became good friends fourth year, we often sat next to each other in the Great Hall. And let’s just say that it was _you_ that I often caught _looking_.”  
  
Ron turned away in unconcealed distress. “Whatever,” he spat. “Let’s just get this over with. You have my request, I have your frogs – how does this work?”  
  
Zabini put his hands up placatingly. “Relax, Weasley. Here’s the process: you give us the frogs now, and we all sign this contract that guarantees you’ll get your nudes within the week.” He pulled a scroll of parchment from his robes and unrolled it with a quick flick of the wrist. “The contract also prevents us from divulging this information to anyone but each other. Sound fair?”  
  
“Fine,” Ron grumbled again, not really caring whether he was selling his soul at this point – he had already been wrestled from his dignity. Taking the parchment from Zabini, he scrawled his name on the line.  
  
“Here.” He began to shove the bag at the Slytherins, but then, in a rush of petty vengeance, upended the frogs across the floor instead.  
  
_Let them crawl around and gain some humility for a change._  
  
But as he turned to walk away, he heard another peal of laughter and Malfoy’s smug call of “Please doing business with you!” ringing behind him.

  


The envelope arrived four days later, while he was eating in the Great Hall. He knew what it was right away, as soon as Malfoy’s bloody recognizable eagle owl swooped over to the Gryffindor table and knocked down a few goblets with its ostentatious landing.  
  
“Isn’t that…” Harry started, eyes clouding with confusion.  
  
“Ron, why would Malfo-”  
  
“Gotta go,” Ron said, snatching the letter before Hermione could finish her question. “See you guys later.”  
  
He was halfway down the aisle when he sent a venomous glare at the Slytherin table, and he could’ve sworn he saw Malfoy drop a wink in return.  
  
_Prat_.  
  
Ron rushed through the hallways, practically flying up the steps to Gryffindor tower and stumbling into the boy’s dorm. He leapt onto his bed, scrabbling to pull the drapes closed in record time as he ripped open the envelope.  
  
_Merlin fuck_.  
  
Yes, this was _exactly_ what he had wanted.  
  
Those tight back muscles, the perfect curve of his arse – for once, unobstructed by Quidditch leathers. That enormous-  
  
His eyes grew wide. He cleared his throat.  
  
Yes, enormous was the right word. _Fuck_ , he’d take this over chocolate any day. 

  


At length, Ron noticed two notes that had fluttered onto the bed. He picked them up with interest and scanned with first with rapidly growing disbelief. 

  


Dear Ronald Weasley—

Greetings from Bulgaria! When Draco wrote me, I must admit I was quite surprised to hear of your interest in my exclusive photoshoot for Witch Weekly last year. Given our short time together at Hogwarts, I never learned of your interest in professional photography. I hope these pictures serve as an adequate reference for the future shoots you plan to be part of.  
If you find yourself in need of a model to practice on, as Draco suggested, let me know, and I’d be more than happy to comply. Your friend Hermione has my address, if you wish to write. Best of luck in your final year at Hogwarts.  
\--Viktor Krum

  


Ron tried and failed to swallow several times; his mouth was suddenly as barren as the desert. Merlin, Malfoy had really outdone himself here. He had clearly been trying to entrap Ron with these lies, but that could be dealt with later. Explaining this to Hermione could be dealt with later. This was a _personal note_ from Krum. To _him_.  
  
Maybe he’d take up photography. 

  


He picked up the second scrap of parchment and couldn’t help but laugh as he read the short two lines.

  


See? I told you we were friends.  
Happy wanking, Weasel.  
\--D.M. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh, that was fun! I must admit, Draco was more of a bro in this story than I imagine is strictly realistic, but I thought it'd be amusing.  
> When I saw this prompt, I immediately thought of Ron trying to buy nudes of Viktor, after all that sexual tension in GOF. In my mind, Harry and Ron are both Very Bisexual (TM), and I could cite instances in the books all day long to support this. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this short, ridiculous fic!  
> xoxo


End file.
